


You Look Like You've Seen A Ghost

by F1_rabbit



Category: Actor RPF, Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1_rabbit/pseuds/F1_rabbit
Summary: Max is starting to think that his flat is haunted by a very supportive and compassionate ghost.





	You Look Like You've Seen A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writtenfripperies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenfripperies/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Cutie! 🍾🎉❤

Max feels sleep calling out to him, his feet shuffling up the stairs as he drags his bag behind him, the weight of it growing as he gets closer to his front door.

He fumbles with his keys, dropping them twice before he manages to get the door open, and he dumps his bag by the door before staggering to his bed.

When he wakes up he’s still tired, but he knows sleeping all day will only mess up his sleep pattern more, and that’s the last thing he wants.

He stumbles through to the kitchen, heading for the coffee machine, when he sees a ghostly figure hovering over one of the stools.

Max jumps backwards, banging into the sink and making the dish rack fall from where it was precariously balanced at the back of the draining board.

The noise of metal clanging against metal muffles the sound of him screaming, and he slumps back against the worktop, taking a breath as his heart rate slowed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man’s voice is calm and soft, and it puts Max at ease.

His legs are curled under him in an unusual way, as though his joints don’t bend the way they’re supposed to, and there’s something about his eyes that don’t fully look human.

“Who are you?” Max hears the tremble in his voice, he’s no longer a successful young man who travels the world racing fast cars, he’s a terrified teenager again, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his mum was in another country, he’d probably be asking her to come over.

“I’m Bill.”

“I...”

“You’re Max.” Bill smiles, and Max looks amazed, before realising that ghosts must be able to see everything.

His tired mind never questions the fact that Bill is a ghost, the logical part of his mind fried from the dangerous cocktail of jet lag and Red Bull.

Bill talks, but Max can’t focus on the words, his attention drawn to the way that Bill moves his hands, his gestures telling grand stories.

“You should sleep.”

Max nods, his eyelids drooping as he stifles another yawn, and when he looks back up, Bill is gone.

Max wakes up on the kitchen floor, the smell of coffee lingering, and he stretches slowly as he stands up.

The ghostly figure is gone, and Max is certain that it was all a dream.

***

Forty-four hours awake has to be a new record for Max. He’s on the verge of sleep in the taxi home from the airport, but the taxi driver insists on talking to him, and he doesn’t want to disappoint a fan, even if he does have to apologise after every other sentence for yawning so much.

The stairs up to his flat seem never ending, and he’s tempted to just leave his case in the landing. None of it is really his stuff anyway, all team gear that Red Bull would be only too happy to replace.

By the time he makes it to his front door he’s dead on his feet, and he manages to get as far as the sofa before collapsing into a heap of limbs, barely able to get his shoes off before falling asleep.

He wakes up to the sound of the tv, and he looks over to see Bill sprawled over the chair, his legs defying the laws of physics.

Max doesn’t scream this time. He sits up slowly, backing against the end of the sofa so that he can see Bill clearly, his skin almost translucent in the dark room.

“Long flight?”

“Yeah.” Max rubbed his eyes, the tv flickering silently in the background.

“How was the race?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I won’t judge.” Bill holds his hands up, and Max smiles, who better to tell his woes to than a ghost?

Max tells him everything, how he hates being in the spotlight, how he’s scared that he’ll end up like his father, and how he’s terrified that he’ll end up alone.

Bill is eerily still while he talks, listening intently, and when Max is done talking, he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“Thank you.” Max stifles a yawn, the short nap he had earlier isn’t enough to stop exhaustion catching up with him.

“Go, sleep.”

Max wanders through to the bedroom, half expecting Bill to follow him, and the second that his head hits the pillow, he’s sound asleep.

***

Max doesn’t question the ghostly presence any more, he’s happy to see Bill randomly appear. Bill has become his own personal therapist who’s always happy to listen, and isn’t going to betray him.

He no longer finds himself hating long flights where he can’t sleep, as he knows that Bill will be waiting for him when he gets home, and it’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a live-in lover. His former girlfriends had never lived with him, and he’d been happy with that arrangement.

What it says about him that his most stable relationship to date is with a ghost, he doesn’t know, but at least his father can’t scare him away.

***

Max catches sight of someone lurking, and he jumps before realising that it’s Carlos, the orange of his shirt still a strange sight.

“How did you get in here?”

“Some of us manage to switch teams without burning bridges.” Carlos runs his fingers through his hair, and Max blushes.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been acting strange for a while now, and I wanted to check that you were okay.”

“There’s a ghost living in my flat.” Max blurts it out, and Carlos manages not to laugh at him.

“A ghost?” Carlos sits down next to him, and it’s almost like old times.

“I only see him when I’m tired.”

“Normally most people can’t perceive the other side, their skeptical mind keeps them from seeing what is right in front of them.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Max looks Carlos in the eyes, hoping that he’s not alone.

“Not exactly, but my grandmother swears she can see them.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“You’re not crazy.”

Carlos pulls him into a hug, the warm, zesty scent of his aftershave familiar and comforting.

“I can ask my grandmother how to get rid of ghosts for you?”

“Sure, thanks.”

*

That night. Max hears his phone buzz over and over again, as though he’s receiving lots of messages at the same time, and his eyes go wide when he sees how many there are. They’re all from Carlos, a detailed list of what he needs to do, but Carlos swears that it’s the best way to get rid of ghosts.

Max doesn’t sleep well that night, he’s got used to Bill hanging around, and he’s not sure that he’s ready to say goodbye just yet.

***

The airport is starting to feel more familiar than his own home, and he’s in zombie mode the whole way home, the same chatty taxi driver keeping the conversation going while Max does his best not to yawn too much.

He’s glad that the taxi driver got his bags out of the boot for him, because he’s not sure that he’d have had the strength to manage it on his own.

Gravity feels stronger as he approaches the stairs, and he manages a flight before he has to resort to dragging his case, wincing at how loud it sounds as it bumps up the stairs.

He finally makes it to his floor, and he stopes dead in his tracks when he sees who’s standing there.

“Bill? How did you get out here?”

“I walked?”

“I thought ghosts were trapped in the place where they died?”

“Are you okay?” Bill’s deep blue eyes are staring into his soul, and he reaches out to rest his hand on his arm, the warmth of his skin startling.

“You’re alive?” Max touches his face, his skin warm and solid beneath his fingers, and Bill smiles as Max casually gropes him, patting him down as though he’s an officer arresting a suspect.

“I think I should get you inside.” Bill ushers him into his flat, the one next door to his, and Max wonders how he’s never noticed that Bill is his neighbour.

The flat is even more minimalist than his own, which is saying something, and Bill leads him to the sofa, hovering behind him as though he could faint at any moment.

Bill humming to himself while he makes the coffee is strangely domestic, and Max can’t help but laugh, grinning like an idiot as Bill walks back in.

The silence is comfortable, and Max lets the sweet, milky coffee chase away the exhaustion.

Bill yawns and stretches, resting his arm around Max’s shoulders, and Max cuddles in against him, surprised by how comfortable he is.

“So, you thought I was a ghost?”

“Yeah.” Max buries his head against Bill’s chest, feeling safe and loved in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“I was worried about you, always leaving your door unlocked.”

“Oh.”

Bill smiles, and Max realises that everything he’s longed for with Bill is now possible, that he can kiss and caress him, feel the warmth of his body pressed against his own.

Max acts on instincts, leaning up for a kiss as his eyes fall shut, hoping that Bill feels the same.

The feeling of Bill’s soft lips against his own take his breath away, his heart racing as he deepens the kiss, and he’s desperate for more when his traitorous body dares to yawn.

“Am I boring you?” Bill gives him a playful nudge, and Max blushes, cuddling in closer as the warmth of Bill’s body surrounds him like a blanket.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

Bill slides his free arm under Max’s knees, and before Max realises what’s going on, Bill’s lifting him up, carrying him bridal style to the bedroom.

Max is on the verge of sleep when Bill lays him out on the bed, and he’s got a smile on his face when Bill cuddles in behind him, trailing soft kisses along the back of his neck.

“I’m so happy that you’re not a ghost.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> *and obviously none of this happened, it is all a figment of my twisted imagination ;)


End file.
